


We Could Be Together (If You Wanted To)

by ColdwaughterWoes (TrickyMxtape)



Series: Say it in a song (karaoke-verse) [1]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: 3x13 divergent, After the mosaic and related confessions from 4x05, Angst, But leading to erasing season four in it's entirety, Canon-Typical Alcoholism, Eventual Happy Ending, Karaoke, Late season 3 I guess, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-11 15:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickyMxtape/pseuds/ColdwaughterWoes
Summary: Chapter 1: Things That You Can't Say Tomorrow Day(Sometime late season 3 everyone goes out to a karaoke bar. Quentin has some feelings)Chapter 2: Spilling Drinks On My Settee(Eliot has alcohol... and feelings)Chapter 3: The Cusp of Trying To Kiss you(More scenes from the night before)Chapter 4: Aces Up Your Sleeve(Quentin goes to play with a monster)Chapter 5: Is Your Heart Still Open(An ending of sorts)





	1. Things That You Can't Say Tomorrow Day

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to yet another fic inspired by my own shitpost. Pick your favourite version of Do I Wanna Know for the full atmosphere (at least for the first chapter), I picked Hozier. Find me obsessing over The Magicians @coldwaughterwoes on tumblr

Quentin nurses his drink, trying to find comfort in the time with his friends. They aren’t all the best singers, especially when drunk, but they are having fun. Looking at Eliot is hard sometimes but he swallows the feeling with another swig from his glass. These are his friends and he is not letting a half-remembered timeline ~~which he desperately wishes they could relive~~ ruin the first night they all have spent together in months.

  
Margo, of course, takes over the stage and loudly proclaims that Girls Run The World. Laughing, she occasionally stumbles over the words, but she can’t be blamed for that. It’s hard to teach Fillorian musicians Beyoncé.

  
Eliot dedicates The Darkness to his Bambi, hitting notes that were surely high enough to shatter windows. Margo joining in from the crowd screaming “I believe in a thing called love!”. Eliot hasn’t seemed to have this much fun in months, hamming up the lyrics and gyrating with the guitar solo. When he returns from the stage, Eliot drapes himself across his friends, thanking them for being his ‘adoring fans’. _Please, let me adore you_ Quentin thinks, pulling his cup up and flopping his hair forward to hide the emotions he was sure were written all over his face.

  
Penny-23 stoically refuses to sing, claiming his taste in music ‘transcends lyrics’ or something equally pretentious. Kady belts the hell out of Black Velvet, Margo convinces Eliot that, in tribute to their first coronation, should duet The Time of My Life. Josh was on brand with Because I Got High and, with a lot of alcohol, Alice manages to talk Margo, Julia, and Kady into a Spice Girls rendition of all things. Quentin finds himself laughing and clapping for every number, never putting his name down for a song but revelling in the fun his friends were having, which is why he’s confused when his name called and he’s told to pick a tune.

  
“Go!” Margo shouts at him. “It will be fun!” Before starting a “Quentin!” chant that ripples through the bar and builds to a wall of sound in front of him. He quickly downs his drink, and the one next to it, ignoring Penny’s indignant “HEY!”, and makes his way up to pick a song. He knows Margo said fun but he looks back and Eliot is all he can see. Feeling, and several drinks, overwhelms the whole ‘fun’ idea and he finds himself mumbling a song before taking the stage.

Standing there he is hit with a jolt of panic. He wants to run but the music has already started so he settles for closing his eyes, knowing that when he opens them again he will be keeping direct eye contact with the screen because singing this is going to take every ounce of courage he has. Quentin knows he’s not the best at singing, but he opens his eyes and takes hold of the microphone with one hand, his other folded across his chest as though it is the only thing holding him together.

  
There’s a line about having aces up your sleeve that makes Quentin wish he had a deck of cards to keep his anxious fingers busy, and he thinks that he could have maybe made a show of it in the right head-space.

  
Part of him didn’t realise how close to the truth these lyrics would be until they were pouring from his mouth.

  
_I dreamt about you nearly every night this week_  
_How many secrets can you keep?_

Leading into the bridge, Quentin risks a glance out to where his friends are sitting and is instantly glad for stage lights. No risk of uncomfortable eye contact. His eyes flit between the scrolling words on the screen and the audience area, the song making him feel bolder. He wonders briefly if the lights were dimmer, would he have the nerve to lock eyes with Eliot?

  
_The nights are mainly made for saying_  
_Things that you can’t say tomorrow day_  
_Crawling back to you_

  
Quentin closes his eyes, focusing on the feelings he wanted to convey.

  
_Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new_  
_Now I’ve thought it through_

  
He takes a shaky breath and steels himself.

  
_Crawling back to you_

  
The second verse is a challenge and a confession. In his mind, Quentin is trying to make it clear to Eliot that the ball is in his court. If he has the guts… If he feels the same as Quentin does.

  
_We could be together_  
_If you wanted to_

  
_-_

_(Do I wanna know?)_  
_Too busy being yours to fall_  
_(Sad to see you go)_  
_Ever thought of calling darling?_  
_(Do I wanna know)_  
_Do you want me crawling back to you?_

  
His hands are shaking as he returns the mic, but he smiles at the cheers coming from his friends and some of the others in the room. As he makes his way back to the table Margo says “What the fuck, Coldwater? I said fun!” lightly hitting his arm with the back of her hand.

  
Quentin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well I was going to sing Shake it Off but then I remembered Penny would murder me.”

  
“Damn right I would.”

  
Flicking a glance at Eliot, he moves past them murmuring something about needing a bathroom, realising he has to get out of there. He had used all the courage he had to muster up on the stage and couldn’t even bring himself to make eye contact with Eliot after that. Quentin locks himself in a stall, flipping the lid of the toilet down, sitting, and dragging his knees to his chest.

  
“Do I want to know..?”

  
\---

Time definitely passes outside the bathroom, but Quentin couldn’t tell you how long he had been in the stall. Songs started and ended, cheers ringing out, muffled by the doors between himself and the crowd. What the fuck have I done? He breathes deeply, trying the swallow down the tears welling in his eyes from the unbound emotions and the panic of setting them free.

  
A small knock came at the bathroom door, hinges squeaking as the door eased open. “Q..?”

  
Quentin sighs at the familiar voice and slides his feet down from the toilet seat. “I’m almost done in here, Jules. I’ll be out soon.” He hopes the noise from the bar is enough to drown out the slight waver in his voice.

  
“You can take your time.” The bathroom door closes and returns the bar noises to a muted tone. “Just, you’ve been in here for a while and I wanted to check up on you.”

  
“Yeah… I-I am not up to talking right now.” Quentin runs his fingers through his hair, taking a step towards the cubicle door. “Can we just… Just - I don’t know. Get me a few drinks, pretend I didn’t just pull one of the most awkward and lame and just fucking ‘Quentin’ moves of my life, and rather than continue to embarrass myself, I can go back to enjoying watching the rest of you have fun?”

  
The silence stretched between them as Julia rolled his words around her mind. “Hey Q? I’ll be right back.” She says softly, sliding from the bathroom once more.

  
Quentin presses his forehead against the door of the stall, thankful for the coolness to ground him. The voice that calls to him as the door opens again isn’t the one he was expecting.

  
“Alright, nerd boy. I hear you need some fucking fun. Get that cute ass of yours out here Coldwater, we’re going to make at least one man cry tonight.”

  
Quentin’s mouth quirks in a small smile as he shakes out his fingers before slowly unlatching the door. As soon as he cracks it open, Margo’s hand wraps around his wrist and drags him from the bathroom. He stumbles behind her, thinking they are just heading back to their seats but she only pauses by the table to shout at Penny. “Get with the party, 23! Either join us on the stage or block your ears with your balls, because this happening!”

  
Confused but knowing it’s not worth arguing with Margo when she’s like this, Quentin follows her to the stage, where he notices Julia has been waiting with microphones. Together, they pull him up, closely followed by the rest of their group, even Penny.

  
The opening bars of Shake It Up start, and Quentin lets his hair flop forward, his face splitting into a grin. The aftermath of the declaration could be dealt with later. He was with all the people who loved him and they were singing his favourite song to make him feel better. If this was as good as it gets, it’s good enough. Together they jumped around the stage, probably looking as ridiculous as Quentin felt, but laughing through it all. In a quiet moment, Penny told him to yuck it up because they were going to pretend it never happened once it was over, but even he had a smile plastered on his face.

 


	2. Spilling Drinks On My Settee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, guess I've picked my place in the timeline. Time to devour it.

“Bambi…” Eliot whines. “I need you to turn the sun down. It’s loud and my eyes hurt.”

 

“I know I’m High King now, but I can’t actually control the sun.” Margo crosses the room and pulls the curtains enough that the sun no longer beats directly down on his face. She pauses to take him in before perching beyond his feet, gently patting his leg.

 

“Look, El. You know I’m always down for a raging time with you, but from the looks of things you turned last night’s ‘final fun splash before the next stupid thing we do’ trip out into a drunken pity party for one. You need to tell me why.”

 

Eliot groans and sleepily rolls over on his bed - solidly thumping on the floor, startling himself fully awake and realising his fatal error in choosing sleeping locations. Rather than being sprawled across his bed, Eliot had fallen asleep on a bench seat in the common area of the cottage. 

 

Margo rakes her eyes over him disparagingly. “Jesus Christ, Eliot. Were you attempting to drink all the alcohol you left in the cottage, or merely trying to drown in it?” She pulls at his collar. “You definitely managed to ruin this shirt and possibly this seat. Get in the shower and get changed. Then  _ talk to me, damnit. _ ”

 

Dragging himself upstairs, he feels nothing but the dull ache in his head. Eliot removes his flask from the pocket of his pants and places the shelf of the shower and, as he starts the water running, he comes up with a little drinking game.  _ Every time you think about last night, drink. _

 

-

 

Eliot doesn’t talk to Margo.

 

He barely talks to anyone.

 

Conversations are definitely happening around him but he isn’t paying attention, until - “I stay... in the castle.”

 

_ What the fuck. _

**_What the fuck._ **

 

His flask falls from his hand, onto the couch beside him, but it’s forgotten as he steps towards Quentin.

 

“It’s a fair deal, and she’s tired, and I’m strong enough - thanks to the quest. So I’m the new jailer.”

 

“This isn’t the solution.” 

_ Surprisingly enough, Alice is right.  _ “I second that.”

 

Quentin looks sharply at her. “Alice, who’s the one that died for us?” His eyes flick to Eliot, softening as he speaks. “You were willing to stay in Fillory for forever. How is this different?” Eliot wants to shout how different it is, settling instead for shaking his head softly and glancing at the ceiling. “Someone has to step up,” Quentin finishes.

 

“Quick alternative pitch. Take the gun with the god-killing bullet and shoot the  _ fucking monster in the face. _ ”

 

_ Yes, Bambi! Coming in quick with the best ideas.  _ “Second- second that. Yes.”   
  
Quentin locks eyes with him again. “ _ No. _ I- I promised. No clever stuff.”

 

“...It’s more bloody and straight-forward.” Part of Eliot starts to deflate.

 

“But this monster…” He scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s not a joke.” His words seem to settle in Eliot’s throat like a lump he can’t swallow down. “We cannot let it escape and the only way to make sure that it doesn’t is to do this the hard way. The quest taught us that it’s like that sometimes.”

 

And those words squeeze on his heart.  _ The hard way… The quest…  _ Feelings spanning fifty years and Eliot’s literal death weigh down on him now.  _ I can’t let him go. _

 

-

 

Eliot holds up the keys and they are lead into Blackspire, Quentin quickly being lead off by the knight. 

 

“Incase I get held up.” He says softly, handing the keys to Margo before pulling he close.

 

“Don’t, you hear me? You’ve got this okay?”

 

He follows Quentin as quickly as he can. 

 

-

 

He’s convinced that the knight and Quentin are whispering to spite him. How is Eliot meant to eavesdrop properly if they won’t speak up? The snippets he catches are barely enlightening.   
  
“- a child”   
  
“What is-”   
  
“-constant love… not even the gods can stop it.”

 

She calls the monster “My love” as she beckons him like they have been in the middle of a game.    
  
A small giggle echoes from a dark corner and a young man steps out.

 

“Will you play with me?”

 

Eliot’s hand slides into his pocket, feeling the cool metal of the gun as he watches Quentin walk forward. There’s something familiar in the way the monster watches him ruffle the cards between his hands, as though this is a new thing he doesn’t quite understand… but he’s interested. Eliot can’t quite place it until… The gun slips from his grasp, settling back into place in his trousers.

 

_ A child. _

 

**_FUCK._ **

  
  



	3. The Cusp of Trying to Kiss You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for a flashback

**Eliot**

Eliot needs another drink. _What the fuck is Quentin thinking?_ He’s standing awkwardly on the stage as the opening bars of a familiar song ring out and Eliot watches a look cross his face. That sad, self-deprecating smile he always gives when he’s about to confess something that he believes will make him seem pitiful, but Eliot has always only admired the bravery behind those confessions.

 

_Have you got colour in your cheeks_

_Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift_

_The type that sticks around like summat in your teeth?_

 

Another drink. As he sings, Eliot’s world narrows down on Quentin. His fingers are pulling at the inside of his sleeve, the way he does when he wishes he had something to fidget with or how he’s gripping the microphone so hard his knuckles are white and Eliot wants to kiss them before massaging the stress from his joints. _Push it down, Eliot._

_(Sad to see you go)_

_Was sort of hoping that you’d stay_

 

“Do you think this is another Alice thing?” Margo hisses in that loud whisper drunk people always do when they are trying to be quiet and Eliot flinches.

 “I’m sure he’ll say something if he wants us to know, Bambi. The boy is a bubbling vat of emotion and this is probably the first chance he’s had to let his thoughts out of his head in a while. Let’s see where it goes.”  
  
“I hope it’s not. Something about those two feels like cheap extensions and a flat iron. Seems like a good idea at the time but you’re just left with a mess and two destroyed items.” She links her fingers through Eliot’s and leans into his side.

 “Poetic.”

  _Alice. Makes sense._ Another drink. Eliot thanks whoever came up with the idea of alcohol.

 

_Crawling back to you_

 

_So have you got the guts?_

  
_  
_ The booze leaves a burning feeling in his stomach. Definitely the booze. Quentin’s eyes are closed as he sings and Eliot wishes he knew what was going on inside his mind. If it were possible to see them from the stage, would he look at Eliot? Or Alice? Weeks - and a lifetime- ago, sorting things with Alice was second only to the quest to restore magic. Of course he’d sing about trying to get back to her. Plus, Eliot did tell him he needed a different life-partner, and that boy does have a habit for dipping his bucket back into familiar springs. But he also said ‘for a little bit’. Quentin was meant to come back to him. Eliot knows some of what has been going on, here on Earth, but it’s pretty hard to keep track with the things happening in Fillory as well. He closes his eyes to match Quentin and puts all of his energy into listening to the lyrics he sings, rather than overthinking their meaning.

 

_Crawling back to you (crawling back to you)_

 

_Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? (you've had a few)_

_'Cause I always do ('cause I always do)_

_Maybe I'm too (maybe I'm too busy) busy being yours to fall for somebody new_

_Now I've thought it through_

 

It isn’t working. Either this is about him and they have to deal with all of the feelings they both have… or it’s about Alice and Eliot was going to have a lot of shit to process. Or drink about. Definitely drink about.

Another drink.

Eliot isn’t thinking about the way Quentin’s hands shook as returned the microphone. And definitely isn’t thinking about how Quentin didn’t look at him when Margo asked what was up, before he hurried from the room.  
  
He’s not thinking. So, he drinks. He drinks as Julia rushes off in worry. Drinks as Margo comes up with a plan to cheer up ‘their sad little nerd king’. Drinks before following them on stage, singing Quentin’s favourite song and watching his face slowly light up. Being part of making him smile would be worth almost anything.

 

**Quentin**

 

Quentin is about to fall asleep when he hears banging on the door of his room.

“Quentin!” Eliot shouts as he tumbles through the door. “Hi. You’re Quentin.”

He doesn’t realise he’s been holding his breath until Eliot’s hands were cupping his face. Eliot is drunk and humming. Slurring lyrics as he pats Quentin’s cheek.

“Simmer duhhn, pucker up.” Eliot is leaning in, eyes closed. And it is too much for Quentin to take. He wants this so much, but not like this. Not - _No._ Quentin pushes him away, letting everything he feels poor out of his mouth.

“Eliot, stop.” He starts to pace, not letting himself think too hard, afraid he might choke on the words before they come out. “I love you. I-I do. I love you so much and I know you think I don’t or you think I can’t or my lack of history with men makes my love _less_ somehow - which is so fucking stupid Eliot”  
  
“Quentin, I-”  
  
“No, I can’t stop so _please shut up now._ You are not the first guy I’ve been with. I know you can be arrogant but Jesus, El. I don’t parade my conquests around because part of me understands that all the loves of my life, they conquered me. But I did think you would be the last. _You told me to leave_. I wish you could talk to me.  I’m sorry that the idea of being loved by me drives you to drink until you can hardly walk - just so you can stand to be in the same room as me and I’m sorry that when the morning comes I will be the only one of us who remembers this conversation. Now get out.”

Eliot backs himself through the doorway and Quentin moves to close the door, barely hearing the quiet “I _do_ love you.” as the door clicks shut. His forehead thumps against the wood. _He’s only saying that because he’s drunk._

 

**Eliot**

He stumbles down the stairs, hearing Quentin’s door shut behind him.

 _That was so_ _fucking_ _stupid._ Quentin’s words swim in his ears but they don’t really make sense, sliding from his mind on a sea of booze.

Eliot finds a corner where he once kept the surplus liquor and is surprised, but pleased, to find the bottles still waiting. He shuffles them around looking for - _Tequila!_ Alcohol may not be the solution to all of his problems - in fact it was a cause of a great many of them - but it would make him forget about them… for a while. It’s the memories made without alcohol that tend to linger. God, did they linger. 

He remembers before, when they were all _friends._ He remembers the fallout from something impulsive done while hopped up on wine and bottled emotions. Quentin hating him. He remembers trying not to do another impulsive thing while laid low by the revelation of an entire lifetime of emotions, not wanting Quentin to have regrets this time.

 _He was meant to come back._ It feels like a stupid thing to think after pushing him away when he asked to try again. He’s not sure what is worse, thinking that given time Quentin wouldn’t choose to be with him, or implying to his face that Eliot wouldn’t choose him in return. As though there wasn’t a part of him drawn to that floppy-haired vessel of love, anxiety, and depression from the moment they met. He remembers… and so he drinks.

And drinks.

And finally sleeps.


	4. Aces Up Your Sleeve

Eliot is avoiding him, and either still drunk or hoping to return to that point at soon as humanly possible.

Julia is off being a fucking goddess. There was a time in his life when he had thought of her as one, but now she actually is and it is incredible. Quentin is happy for her, he is, but having her back in his life was one of the few good things he still had in his life. Then she had to leave, and with Eliot withdrawing into himself, Quentin feels so alone. Yes, he is technically with his friends and he has the quest to occupy his mind, but it doesn’t really fill the emptiness inside his soul. 

There is a part of him that wants to do something stupid with the tiny rush of power Julia had given him, like trap Eliot in a room with him until he’d sobered up and they could have a conversation. He knows there’s no chance Eliot recalls all the things he had said the night before and, even though it would hurt to have to tear all those words out again, Quentin wishes they had the chance to be said, and heard, and  _ felt. _ But that can’t be done right now, so Quentin has to do something… if not smart, it would be for the benefit of the quest, at least, which is better than nothing.

So, he finds a spell to talk to the knight in Castle Blackspire, putting himself inside her dreams. After he asks for her help, Ora tells Quentin of the monster, the only other living being in the castle because he had killed the rest. She won’t let them into Blackspire because she knows that the risk of the monster escaping isn’t worth them getting to the fountain.  _ “Surely, the quest has taught you? Sacrifice is part of everything.” _ Quentin remembers how Calypso looked in his eyes as she said those words. Sacrifice.  _ Eliot dying at the mosaic. Penny, First to death, then to the library. Even Benedict.  _ They had lost so much trying to regain magic. So, he offers something in return.

-

“Julia gave you a hit of magic and you did what?” Margo seems almost hostile, which, to be fair, is one of Margo’s base emotions. She had a lot to be angry about recently. 

“I incepted the knight in the castle.” 

“That magic was for killing a monster, why waste it on chatting with the help?” 

There is a tiny part of Quentin that wants to quip about how Julia said it was for an Indiana Jones style boulder but knows it wouldn’t go over well right now. Besides, it was his shot of magic he could do what he wanted with it.

“When Calypso told us that the knight was there of her own accord, I figured she must know more than one way in and out of the castle.  _ And she does. _ And she’s going to open it for us. _ ” _ This was pretty basic really, but Quentin was glad to have been stalled so soon into his revelations, because what comes next was going to be harder to make them accept.

“In exchange for..?”

Quentin does the only reasonable thing to do when you’re avoiding talking about something, which is ignore Kady’s question all together. “All you have to is get in, turn the key and get out fast.” 

“And what about the monster?” Josh asks.   
  
“Ora will take care of the monster.” While the misdirects he used in magic tricks weren’t usually verbal, he’s pleased that the skill hasn’t entirely left him.

His internal celebration is short-lived though as Alice asks, “What about you?”

“I stay… in the castle.” Of course it had to be Alice. With her dealings with the library and whatever else she had going on, her making a show of caring just annoyed him more than anything. “It’s a fair deal. She’s been there for centuries and she’s tired and I’m - I’m strong enough. Thanks to the quest. So, I’m the new jailer.”   
  
“This isn’t the solution.”  _ Okay, Alice. Who does ‘the solution’ involve selling us out to this time? _

“I second that.” Eliot agrees.

“Alice, who’s the one who died for us?” Quentin’s eyes flick to Eliot, someone who had died in one timeline of the quest, and feels his gaze, and resolve, soften. “You were willing to stay in Fillory for forever. How is this different?” It feels like a plee, but Eliot only glances at the ceiling in response. “Someone has to step up.”

“Quick alternative pitch. Take the gun with the god-killing bullet and shoot the  _ fucking monster in the face. _ ” Margo states.

“Second- second that. Yes.”   
  
_ Is seconding other people’s ideas all he can say?  _ Quentin locks eyes with Eliot again. “ _ No. _ I- I promised. No clever stuff.”

“...It’s more bloody and straight-forward.” Eliot steps forward as he speaks.

“But this monster…” Quentin scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s not a joke. We cannot let it escape and the only way to make sure that it doesn’t is to do this the hard way. The quest taught us that it’s like that sometimes.” 

“I don’t like this.” 

He doesn’t even look at Alice as she speaks. Quentin knows they are all staring at him but all he can really see is Eliot and know that leaving him is going to be the hardest part of replacing Ora.

“Me either. But I’m going to do it.”

-

The ride in the Muntjac was silent, through a combination of awe for the destructive beauty found on the underside of Fillory, nerves and tension. Quentin is thankful they have stopped trying to convince him not to stay but still wishes he had a chance to talk to Eliot before it all goes down.

Ora opens the door for them and Quentin has a moment to think about how much he really loves giant, fuck-off, fantasy doors as they all step inside. Then he’s following Ora down a hallway towards his future forever companion. One benefit of being in Blackspire forever would be wandering the halls and comparing it to both the descriptions from the book and his memories of Whitespire.

“As I said, I’m only alive because I fulfil its need.”    
  
“To be entertained?” Quentin could be entertaining.

“Served. Coddled.  _ Loved. _ ”

“Loved like..?” Quentin falters.  _ Biblically? _

“A child.”

“Okay, it’s better than my first thought.” 

“Right now, he thinks that we’re playing a game - Hide and seek. It’s the only way to ensure he’d stay diverted long enough to let you in. And right now, it’s getting bored.”

They come to a chamber and Ora calls out “My Love! I found you, I tag you!”    
  
“Does it have a name?” Names are good. Quentin isn’t sure he’d be comfortable calling anything ‘my love’ until the end of time.

“No.”

Well that solved absolutely nothing. “What makes it so dangerous?”

She speaks quietly then. “The gods created something that simply  _ wants. _ So it has to know one secure place and constant love. If not? If it’s appetite goes unfed and it’s unleashed… Even the gods can’t stop it.”

“Love? Come out! Did you fall asleep?”

“What can it  _ do? _ ” Quentin whispers hoping to learn as much as he can before -   
  
There is a small laugh from the end of the hall.

“Will you play with me?” A fairly normal looking young man asks, then his eyes flash with fire.

Ora ushers Quentin forward with one hand on his arm, and he takes a deck of cards from his pocket, holding it out before ruffling it between his hands. The monster looks confused, but intrigued. Quentin hears movement behind him and glances back to see… Eliot? 

Eliot takes Ora’s hand and whispers something to her quickly, while Quentin turns back to the monster, trying to keep his focus. He flares the cards out between his fingers, making a show of the movement of the cards.

  
“Q, I get it.” Eliot says just loudly enough for Quentin to catch, then the sound of footsteps retreating again.    
  
His heart now dislodged from his throat, Quentin can speak.    
  
“Hi, I’m Quentin. Ora let me come here so we could play some games together.”

“I like to play.” The quiet voice is almost disconcerting, but it helps Quentin realise why Ora referred to it as a child.

“So do I! Do you like magic tricks?”   
  
“I can do magic.” The monsters head quirks to the side and a torch from the wall start to float before being telepathically thrown hard into a wall bursting into sparks of embers.

“Wow. That is.. very impressive. This is a different sort of magic. With cards.”   
  
Cards… He says it as though he’s never heard the word before and it feels weird on his tongue.    
  
“Yeah, shall I show you?” Instead of starting with tricks, Quentin lays the whole deck down face-up and starts to explain the different suits, realising that this is a process he’s been through before. When Teddy was small, they taught him to play simple games, like snap.  _ Not snap, I could lose a limb. So… _ _   
_ __   
“Would you like to learn a game? This one is called ‘Go Fish’”    


-

Quentin can feel magic filling his body as it flowed back into the universe.  _ They did it!  _ He didn’t let it change the way he was playing as he had already found that the monster picked up on subtle hesitations. He would probably think of something besides ‘the monster’ to refer to it as at some point, but he had time. He heard movement behind himself again and told himself not to look as it was probably Ora heading to meet up with his friends as they left. 

Then the noises get closer. Long steps striding across the room, the thump of someone dropping to the floor beside him, a familiar weight pressed against his side. 

“Hi, I’m Eliot. I’m friends with Quentin and I want to be your friend, too.”

  
  
  
  
  



	5. Is Your Heart Still Open?

He walks up to Ora and pulls her back to whisper in her ear. “Keep an eye on them and I’ll come back for you when we’re done. I promise.”

“Q, I get it.” Eliot says quietly, hoping Quentin can hear him but knowing he won’t catch all the feeling behind the words. It’s not just that he understands why he’d want to stay, but also that Eliot finally gets the spectrum of how he feels and what he can do to make it right.

-

The plan goes off surprisingly well. Julia arrives, stating that no matter how detached the gods wanted her to be, she needed to be there to help them finish the quest. Apparently, their combined internal screaming about this final leg of their journey had been a pretty powerful prayer. The seven of them turning the keys and watching magic flow back into the universe.

They rush towards the door, knowing that they had to leave before the monster realised they were in his castle. Eliot’s fingers move through a familiar spell, driving the rest of the alcohol from his body. He knows he needs to be sober for this. As they come to the exit, Eliot falters, grabbing Margo’s hand.  
  
“Bambi. I’m staying.”

“El, no-”

“I have to stay. We can’t kill the monster, and I can’t leave Quentin here alone with it. So I’m staying.” Tears well in her eyes so he pulls her close, neither of them wanting him to see her cry. “You have magic back so you can do the spell Q did to talk to the knight. Or I can do the spell. I need you to bring me all the gossip from both Fillory and Earth. I’ll be relying on you for entertainment from beyond.”

“Are you going to use me like Ti-Vo for the outside world? You fucking asshole. I’m going to miss you.” She finishes in a whisper, clinging to him.

“I know you will. No one around you has my fashion sense. Your life will be drab from this moment on. I also know that you don’t fully understand it right now, but the next time we talk… I will have so much to tell you” Her fist thumps against his chest before she steps away from him.

“I hate you so much right now,” she says with a soft look on her face. “Well, time to run. Tell the knight she has ten minutes to get to the Muntjac before we leave. I have a kingdom to rule… and someone needs to take care of your wife.” Margo winks at him before turning to walk out. It tugs at his heart and he follows her to the door, needing to make sure it’s shut.

Then he goes to find Quentin.

-

As he enters the chamber, he nods to Ora, letting her know it’s time to sneak out. Eliot watches Quentin for a while. They are sitting on the floor as he gently tries to teach the monster how to play Go Fish. It makes him smile as he remembers Quentin doing the same with Teddy when, by chance, they found a trader with a deck of cards in with the trinkets at market. He knows that they probably started with open hands, Quentin pointing to the cards and explaining how you are meant to ask for others, making pairs, drawing into your hand. _He’s so good with children._ This is not the first time in their lives Eliot has had that particular thought. Knowing he can’t hover over them forever, Eliot goes to join them, pressing his leg against Quentin’s as he sits beside them.

“Hi, I’m Eliot. I’m friends with Quentin and I want to be your friend, too.” He feels Quentin freeze beside him, but it doesn’t matter, he is staying.

“What is ‘friend’?” The quiet voice asks.

“Well, I’m going to stay here and play games with you and Quentin, if you want.”

The monster nods at him. “I like games. Quentin is teaching me cards. They have numbers _and_ colours.”   
  
“They do! Can I watch this game? Then I’ll join in the next one.”

So, he watches them play, the monster occasionally asking Eliot to help with its cards. Eliot pats Quentin gently on the knee, before moving to the monsters side to help. He’s fairly certain that outside of the tiny game interactions Quentin is ignoring him but he’s sure they’ll have time to talk soon.

-

‘Soon’ turns out to be longer than he thought. Something about the god magic in Blackspire made them not really need to eat or sleep, and, if Ora was anything to go by, they probably wouldn't age. Like an eternity-long stamina spell for being the keepers of the evil at the end of the world. But the monster, like most ~~beings made of pure power~~ children, eventually burns himself out, curling on the floor where they had been playing in order to nap.

Quentin pulls him to the corner of the room, whispering angrily trying not to wake the monster. “What the fuck, El? This is not what we agreed on.”  
  
“I didn’t actually agree on anything. But I did decide that if you were determined to spend the rest of your life locked in a prison guarding a monster, then you wouldn’t be doing it alone.” Quentin gazes up at him in jaw-dropped silence. “I wanted to talk to you… before all of this. But, like most reasonable, semi-functional alcoholics, rather than confronting my feelings I was drunk and stupid.”

“Your feeli-”  
  
Eliot shushes him gently, placing a finger on his lips. The action had been to keep him quiet but Eliot can’t resist stroking his fingertip against the softness there.   
  
“Quentin, I am in love with you. I stupidly pushed you away because I didn’t think you could love me too, not in our real lives. Plus, I knew the last time I acted on my urges after having emotions thrust into my body, I ruined everything for a while. I didn’t want to make people hate me again. I didn’t want you to regret being with me again. But there was a naive hope that once the fallout from a half century of emotions had settled, you’d come back. So, when you didn’t, I figured I had been right.”

A small choked noise tears itself from Quentin’s throat as he throws himself into Eliot, burying his face into the taller man’s chest. “You are right.” Everything in Eliot freezes. “You are _so fucking stupid._  Of course I love you.”

They stand that way for a while, wrapped around each other, clinging to the love they had found. Pressing his lips to Quentin’s hair, Eliot pulls away, smiling as he looks into the smaller man’s soft eyes. “As much as I’d like to stay like this, I promised Bambi I’d get in touch after I talked to you. Can you show me the spell you used to talk to the knight?”

-

“You mother fucking assholes. You don’t get to catch feelings in a whole separate lifetime then not fucking tell me. And then you commit to spending the rest of your life in a fuck-off castle because you can’t shoot a monster that seems like a child, knowing you’ve done the whole parent thing already. That sum it up?”  
  
“Pretty much. I’m so glad we have your love and support, Bambi. Any other questions, comments or concerns?”   
  
“Not about that. I knew you dumbasses would figure it out eventually. I would have preferred it happened where I could laugh at you, but I’ll take what I can get. I did speak to the knight on our flight back to civilisation though.”   
  
“Oh, good. Q mentioned that she didn’t get a chance to answer when he asked what the monster could do.”   
  
“Yeah, that’s the thing. We’re really _fucking_ lucky you didn’t decide to shoot it. The thing can hop bodies, so make sure it doesn’t break the one it has or you and Coldwater will have a miserable rest-of-forever babysitting a monster wearing the love of your life as a skin suit.”   
  
“Noted.”

“Apparently, there were other creatures tin Blackspire once. He would possess them and fight others for fun, letting them tear the body he was riding apart before jumping into the next one. Something stuck with that last guy though. Ora claims he said something once about no one wanting to play with him when he looked scary, so he tore the rest of them apart with his mind.”

“Quentin mentioned telekinesis, maybe we can bond over that.”

“Oh, of course you’d find a way to bond with a monster. You are the most charismatic person you know.”  
  
“Aside from you, Bambi.”   
  
“El, we both know I’m the super bitch of this relationship. We all have our parts to play.” She smiles sadly. “Call me again soon, okay? I don’t really know what I’m going to do without you.”

“You’ll thrive, as you always do. I love you.”

-

The next time the monster slept, Eliot and Quentin set up wards so they knew where in the castle the monster was at any given time. Eliot smiles as he remembers the last time they used these particular wards, nick-naming them the ‘baby-monitor’. As they finish, he wraps his arms around Quentin, kissing his forehead, nose, lips.  
  
“Did you ever think we’d raise a child again?” He asks, gesturing to the wards they had just raised.

"Can you really ‘raise’ a monster that has had the mentality of a child for centuries?”

Eliot smiles into Quentin’s hair, holding the smaller man tight. “Sometimes a family is two eternally young men with memories of being old men supervising-slash-raising a god-monster-toddler full of unbelievable power for an indeterminate amount of time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end. I realise I have some... not exactly plot holes because I know how I got here, but currently no one else does, so expect a karaoke-verse one shot that explains a few things.


End file.
